Regrets
by Shinobu
Summary: Set a dozen years following the TV series, three souls discuss what might have been.


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Authors note: The following story contains spoilers for the _Fushigi Yuugi_ television series, particularly after episode 30. This story is set in the future, about a dozen years following the conclusion of the TV series. Also- this story contains some slight shounen-ai content. If that type of thing bothers you, perhaps you should go no further.

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REGRETS

by Shinobu

A soothing summer breeze blew over the porch at the Imperial Palace where Chichiri sat, putting the finishing touches on his work. As he applied pen to paper, he had to tilt the tablet and strain to see. It was almost completely dark now on this hot summer night in Kounan, and the last natural light had fled, leaving only the illumination of the torches to work by. 

"Chichiri-sensei, if I were working in the dark, you'd tell me I was going to ruin my eyes." The boy strode toward him and sat down on crossed legs next to the monk.

"Well, Your Highness, since one of my eyes is already ruined, I have only half as much as you to lose, you know," replied Chichiri. The youthful features grinned in the artificial glow. 

"What are you doing?"

"Not much. What, may I ask, are you doing- wondering around the Palace Grounds at this late hour?" inquired the robed scholar as he continued applying ink to paper. The youngster shifted, looking distinctively uncomfortable for the most powerful person in the land. Emperor Boushin looked down, then back to the face of his mentor. "I was restless and couldn't sleep, so I decided to take a walk."

Chichiri dipped his pen in the ink again. "Most twelve-year-old boys don't go wondering around by themselves after dark, you know."

"Most twelve-year-old aren't emperor of Kounan," he replied, then leaned forward to add in a softer voice, "besides, I think the guards are too scared to tell me I shouldn't do it." He grinned proudly.

"But I am not." Chichiri stopped his work and held a long gaze of disapproval, slowly melting the boy's smile. He was not wearing his mask and his expression made clear his thoughts. Turning back to his work, he concluded that he had driven home his point. "Is there particular reason you are unable to get to sleep, Highness?"

The young royal hesitated, then replied "No."

Chichiri had known Boushin for all the youngster's life, certainly well enough to know a lie, and the boy knew his teacher well enough to know he had been caught. "Yes."

"Ah. It might help to talk about it, you know."

The twelve-year-old shifted uncomfortably, considering where to begin.

"Tell me about her," he said finally.

"Her?"

"Suzaku no Miko… Miaka."

"You've heard the stories."

Frustrated, Boushin pressed on. "Sure, everyone's heard the stories. But you were there! You knew her! Sensei, please!" he begged. "What was she like?"

The sage was busy, and not anxious to spin bedtime yarns, but he was a man of patience and after all, this was the emperor he was speaking with. With a slight inhale to brace himself, he put down his pen and faced the boy.

"Well, where to begin? She was older than you, about fifteen I believe. She was very beautiful, with brown hair and a smile that lit up the sky. She loved to talk and she loved to eat, you know" he said, giving a short laugh. "And I believe she loved life itself. I have met few people in my lifetime with the chi to match hers. And most of all, she was always concerned about people. How they felt, if they were healthy and happy. She had a great capacity for caring."

Searching Boushin's face to see if the answer satisfied him, Chichiri sensed more behind the question than simple curiosity. "Why do you ask, Your Highness?"

The boy looked away for a moment, internally debating how to answer the question. "Well, yesterday I was in the old wing of the palace. I was told those were some of the rooms that father used to use."

"You were told correctly."

"Well, I found a book. It was father's, some sort of diary. I know I probably shouldn't have, but I read some it." This time it was Chichiri's turn to shift uncomfortably.

"Chichiri- the Priestess, Miaka. Father loved her didn't he? I mean, she was his one true love, wasn't she?"

It was an irony that the man who usually wore a mask was very good at reading faces. As he studied Boushin's though, he wasn't sure what to make of it. Was it anger at his father? Admiration? Simple curiosity?

"We all loved Miaka, Highness. She was that type of person."

"Yes, but father loved her differently, didn't he?" he said, then quickly added, "Oh, I don't mean any disrespect to mother. I know father loved her. I was a product of that love, you taught me that." Chichiri smiled as the boy continued. "But he was also in love with Miaka, wasn't he?"

The scholar had studied about the concept of "truth" for most of his life, and many years ago he had concluded that it was a force that could never be defeated. Misplaced, twisted, and delayed, but in the end, never defeated.

"Yes Boushin. Your father was in love with Miaka. He was deeply in love with her until the day he died. But as you yourself pointed out, he also profoundly loved your mother, Houki-dono. Never forget that."

"I never will," the young one replied. His face gained a embarrassed look as he confided "I know boys my age are supposed to think about things like swords and horses, but I find the whole thing, well, very romantic." Chichiri considered the young ruler, his long hair and face so resembling Hotohori. And his demeanor. _My friend would be proud_, the monk thought.

"I wish I could find a girl like that one day. They say that in Miaka's world, time doesn't work the way it does here. Maybe when I'm older, she'll return one day and fall in love with me."

Chichiri picked up his pen to resume his task. "You will have an entire royal court of beautiful young women to chose from Your Highness. I'm sure you will find a wonderful woman to marry, just as your father did when he found your mother."

"Chichiri-sensei. Were you in love with Miaka?"

He dipped his pen in ink and placed it to the paper. "I told you, we all loved her."

"Even Uncle Tasuki?"

"Well, Tasuki-sama didn't like many people back in those days. He had a lot of anger inside of him. I think he's mellowed a bit since that time, you know."

"Speak for yourself Chichiri" the red haired man said as he turned the corner. "I haven't changed a bit. It's just that other people have come around to my way of thinking, that's all. Your Highness is up late tonight," Tasuki said as he sat down on the edge of the porch. 

Boushin took up position beside him. "We were just talking about true love," he said. Tasuki chuckled. "Then I won't be able to contribute much to the conversation."

A sad expression crept into the emperor's face. "Haven't you ever had a true love Uncle Tasuki? Your one and only true love?"

Tasuki looked at the young man and cleared his throat. Chichiri continued his job.

"Yes, Highness, I have."

A smile swept over Boushin's face. "Where is she? I want to meet her!"

Tasuki placed his right arm around the boy in fatherly fashion. "She isn't here anymore Highness. She was taken from me. She's in heaven now."

"That's very sad."

"But if you look up there," the big man motioned with his left arm, " you can see where she is. You see that group of stars, the constellation called Hydra? That's where my true love is." Boushin also pointed to the sky and said, "Yes, I see it. Chichiri-sensei has taught me all about the constellations. I know which one it is."

"Well, Chichiri-sensei is a very good teacher," Tasuki said glancing toward his longtime comrade. "And speaking of learning things, you know we have a day of riding set for tomorrow. It's a daylong trip. I think you'd better try to get some sleep. It's going to be a busy day, and it wouldn't do for the emperor of all of Kounan to fall asleep on his horse. You'd tumble off and I don't think that would impress the people at all!"

The boy laughed and rose to depart. "Good night Uncle Tasuki," he said as he hugged him from behind, around the neck. Turning to Chichiri, the young man bowed. "Good night Chichiri-sensei."

After the young Emperor had left, Tasuki remained seated near his friend and took in the cool breeze. "Where will you be riding tomorrow?" Chichiri asked.

Tasuki swept his hand through his crimson locks. "I thought we'd go to Hakukou."

"That's Tamahome's home village, isn't it."

"Yes. I thought we'd stop and honor his family at their shrine. Make sure everything's being looked after properly."

"He'd appreciate that."

"Want to come with us?"

"I can't. I 'm meeting with a group of acolytes from the temple in Eiyou, you know."

"Oh."

Tasuki leaned back. Bracing himself on both hands placed flatly on the porch, he stared at the sky. "Did you ever tell him?" Chichiri asked softly, as he lay his pen and paper down, his task completed.

"Tell who what?"

"Tell Nuriko that you loved him."

Tasuki remained motionless for a few moments. 

"No. I wanted to, but… but I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"Afraid he'd reject me. Afraid he'd laugh at me. Afraid he'd hit me!" Both men grinned.

"Or afraid he'd accept you?

The stillness of the night hung between them.

After a long while, Tasuki continued. "I almost told him once. Nuriko, Miaka, and I went to the Star Festival in town. Damn, we had a great time that night. Well, Miaka went off somewhere, probably to buy some food…"

"No doubt," Chichiri chuckled in agreement.

"…anyway, for a few minutes, in the middle of the crowd, we were alone. He was so beautiful that night. I had been drinking, of course, and almost worked up enough nerve. Almost. If I had just- just said it..."

A single tear rolled down Tasuki's cheek. He wiped it away, thinking to himself that he used to be so quick to shed tears. He hadn't cried in a years. 

"You know," Chichiri searched for words of comfort. "Nuriko was very sensitive to other people. You two were together quite a bit. It's possible he knew how you felt."

Tasuki got to his feet and looked down at his friend, who was still positioned on the porch. "Maybe so," he replied, and glanced at what Chichiri had been penning. He smiled, then looked back to the stars. His smiled faded. "I just wish I had told him. I…" he choked off the last words and began to walk back to his quarters. 

"Goodnight Chichiri."

"Goodnight."

The monk looked up at the ceiling of stars for a few more minutes, then picked up his paper. As he held the drawing to the fading torch light, the face of a dozen years ago gazed back at him in her eternal youth. 


End file.
